


Love Is Not All

by winter156



Series: The Anguish Of The World Is On my Tongue [2]
Category: The Devil Wears Prada (2006)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-25
Updated: 2018-02-25
Packaged: 2019-03-23 19:01:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13794162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winter156/pseuds/winter156
Summary: It was hot and humid. Andy smelled rain on the wind. She saw the dark thunderhead of the oncoming storm forming on the eastern horizon and she knew it wouldn’t be long until the storm reached them. Her fingers absently twisted the rings she’d put on a necklace around her neck.





	Love Is Not All

**Author's Note:**

> So, I finally got around to doing a follow up to The Anguish Of The World Is On My Tongue. It got much, much longer that I originally intended. But, I hope it gives closure to the original story.

“All the hardest, coldest people you meet were once as soft as water. And that’s the tragedy of living.” — Iain S. Thomas

* * *

It was hot and humid. Andy smelled rain on the wind. She saw the dark thunderhead of the oncoming storm forming on the eastern horizon and she knew it wouldn’t be long until the storm reached them. Her fingers absently twisted the rings she’d put on a necklace around her neck.

“It’s been two and a half months. Maybe it’s time you talked to her.”

The words startled Andy. She hadn’t heard the door to the porch open and close.

She tried to ignore her mother’s weighty gaze as she accepted a glass of lemonade. She drank long and deep before turning to look at eyes so like her own. She felt one eyebrow arch as she stared pointedly back simultaneously questioning and defensive and completely unsure why she was either.

Margaret Sachs’ mouth turned up at the corners and she shook her head slightly. “You’re just like her sometimes.”

Andy frowned. That wasn’t something she found particularly flattering. She made a displeased noise in the back of her throat and looked out at the redheads chasing a soccer ball around with her father. “I still don’t know what I should do,” she said slowly, her fingers playing with the condensation on the glass. “Some days I wake up and I know _this_ , right now, isn’t how I wanted things to go and I’m certain I could live without her…without them…” Her voice hitched and her heart ached. “…if I had to. If I chose to.” She put the glass down on the railing and wiped angrily at her eyes. It shouldn’t still hurt this much. “And most days I just miss _her_ , miss _them_ ,” she waved in the direction of the girls, “miss _us_ … _so_ much.”

Margaret turned to lean on the railing, her gaze on her husband and then further off at the forming of the thunderstorm. Silence stretched between them, not uncomfortably but full of all the things yet to be said.

“When you were little,” she started, her voice soft, her mind far away in the past, “we hit hard times financially. We still lived close enough to mom that she offered to take care of you and I went to work.” She paused but didn’t look at Andy. Her body was rigid and her gaze unfocused and far away.

Andy shifted her gaze between her father and mother and wondered at the feeling of dread that gripped her as her mother spoke. Something was off in the way her mother wouldn’t look at her and the way her normally relaxed and calm demeanor was rigid and closed off.

“Richard was working as much overtime as he could. And when we were home together, there was you and the house and the bills and life.” She sighed and shook her head trying to dispel the memories. “Somewhere along the line we were too tired to do it all. And, we stopped talking. Stopped communicating. Stopped being intimate.”

Andy snorted in amused disgust, “Mom!”

Margaret half turned to Andy and smiled. But it was strained and pained. It didn’t reach her eyes. Andy sobered immediately, her heart trembled in her chest at the _guilt_ in her mother’s eyes.

“I don’t mean sex,” she sighed again, her eyes not able to keep contact with Andy’s, “though that did sort of fall by the wayside, too. I mean emotional intimacy, non-sexual physical intimacy…we just stopped being a couple and became two strangers living together that shared a child.”

Andy didn’t comment, didn’t interrupt. She felt the words deep in her bones, their accuracy piercing through her skin. She gripped the railing and tried not to let what she was hearing change her perception of the world.

Margaret took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “It feels like it all happened to different people. That it wasn’t us.” She shook her head. “The days turned into weeks, which turned into months. And I was lonely. And Richard wasn’t there, even when he was present.” Her eyes stayed fixed on the horizon. The storm was moving quickly and growing larger with each mile. “I was lonely,” she repeated, her voice cracked on the words. “James was always around at work, always complimentary, flirtatious even. Kind. And there. Simply present with me.”

Andy’s eyes were on her father. Anger and disappointment washed through her so quickly, so strongly, she swayed where she stood. “Mom,” Andy shook her head, the words barely escaping her mouth through the tightness of her throat, “I don’t think I want to know this.”

“And I don’t want to tell you,” Margaret said so softly Andy almost missed it, “but I think it’s something you need to hear.”

Andy closed her eyes and held the railing in a white-knuckled grip.

“I knew it was a mistake before we did anything. But it _felt_ like the worst mistake of my life after…”

The words punched Andy in the gut, leaving her breathless. And, inexplicably, she felt Miranda’s betrayal keenly slicing through her again. She could see Miranda’s lips on that model…even if there was nothing afterwards, Miranda still touched someone else…still meant to _hurt_ her with that knowledge. And, she felt her mother’s betrayal of her father in the same way: sharp and hot and devastating.

“How long?” Andy’s voice was emotionless, brittle as it left her lips.

There was such a pregnant pause that Andy thought her mother wouldn’t answer. And, maybe that was better. Not knowing was better. But a shamed, guilty whisper reached her ears and it made a painful jolt go through her being.

_Three months._

The knowledge made Andy sick. She turned away; she couldn’t look at her mother.

“Mom,” it came out like an accusation, a plea, a pained exclamation, “how could you do that to Dad?” She made herself turn back to look at her mother. Margaret looked as devastated as Andy felt. “Why?” The question was sharp and wounded.

Margaret wanted to close the distance between them and erase the pain this was causing Andy, but she closed her eyes and didn’t move. “No reason is good enough to satisfy those questions.”

“Why tell me now?”

Margaret reached to touch Andy’s shoulder, and tried not to let hurt consume her when Andy shrugged out of the touch. “Because, whatever choice, whatever mistake Miranda made is hers alone.”

The storm was upon them; it darkened the whole sky. Richard and the twins ran toward them as the first drops of water began to fall. They bounded up the steps with loud feet and excited, happy chatter. Margaret and Andy automatically turned to face them, trying to pretend there wasn’t a sudden rift between them.

Richard’s smile was wide and happy as he came over and kissed Andy head affectionately and then Margaret’s cheek. He looked between his wife and daughter and his brow furrowed, his smile dimmed slightly. “How about some ice cream and movies?” He exclaimed, already trying to usher the twins inside, trying to let whatever was happening on the porch play out.

“God, Richard, we’re practically grownups,” Caroline groused playfully, sticking her tongue out at him, “we don’t do that kid stuff anymore.”

“Hey,” he stopped in the middle of the porch, hands over his heart, “grownups like ice cream and movies, thank you very much.” He turned his face back to Andy and Margaret, smile still spread wide across his face, more for pretense now than anything else. “Right, honey?”

Margaret nodded and tried to smile back. “Of course we do.”

“See,” he stuck his tongue out back at the girls. Their laughter followed them inside. He stopped at the door and looked back at them, smile gone, eyes searching Margaret’s. But, she shook her head slightly and he followed the girls inside without argument.

Silence filled the porch again, filled every crevice in the space between them.

“You are not responsible for her actions,” Margaret eventually broke the silence. She picked up the glass on the railing. She didn’t reach for Andy again. At the door she stopped but didn’t turn to face Andy. “Whatever she did, that’s hers to carry. Those consequences, those memories, that guilt are hers to bear. But, you do have a choice to make…and that’s yours alone.”

The door closed behind her mother with a quiet click. Thunder rolled in the distance and the smell of wet earth was heavy in the air all around her. And Andy’s heart ached and ached and ached.

* * *

Caroline and Cassidy carried dinner conversation almost entirely. Richard interjected where necessary, but mostly he looked between his wife and daughter trying to find a way to bridge this new and unsettling distance between them.

Andy could sense his discomfort and reached out to pat his hand. She smiled at him, trying to make it reach her eyes, mouthing _it’s fine, Dad_.

A loud knock at the door caused quiet to fall over the table. When it came again, everyone at the table looked down at their plates except Andy.

“Okay,” she was already standing from her untouched dinner to answer the door, “I guess I’ll get that.”

At the start of a third knock, Andy opened the door wide without looking through the peephole. She stared for several seconds, not finding any words. Blood rushed in her ears and the hard thud of her heart against her ribs was painful.

“Miranda…” Andy stared at her and Miranda stared back.

“Hello Andrea,” Miranda said softly, each syllable filled with longing. Her blue eyes soft as they regarded Andy.

“What are you doing here?” Andy was trying to process the fact that Miranda was in front of her.

Miranda cleared her throat and averted her gaze just past Andy’s shoulder left. “You weren’t expecting me?” At Andy’s confused _no_ , her eyes closed and she shook her head, seemed to shake her thoughts. “I _thought_ I was invited.”

Andy’s mind raced to piece an explanation together. “The girls?”

Miranda hummed in agreement. “Since I am not expected tonight, after all, I’ll be back to collect the girls in the morning.”

“Hey,” Andy reached out and clasped Miranda’s hand, stopping her from turning and walking away. There were two things Andy noticed immediately: Miranda’s hands were cold and she still wore her wedding ring. They both looked down and stared at their clasped hands between the threshold of the door. Andy finally looked up into Miranda’s face. “You shouldn’t be out in this downpour. Come inside.”

Miranda didn’t say anything but walked in and took off her raincoat and boots at the door.

Andy watched Miranda move into the living room. She fidgeted. Her eyes looking and not looking at Miranda.

She felt inexplicably nervous and off balance, discomfort swirled in her belly and she wiped her hands on her jeans to help lessen the clammy feeling of them. She almost jumped at the clap of thunder and the bright shock of lightning flashing across the windows of the living room. Andy shook herself and tried to focus on something other than Miranda.

But in her frantic search for something to look at beside the woman that had occupied so much of her conscious thought, Andy noticed Miranda’s socks. It was such a small, simple thing to see Miranda wearing the gag gift she’d given her months ago. She had told her she should wear them when she wore normal people shoes. Andy didn’t really think she ever would. When Miranda wasn’t in heels, she liked her feet bear. She liked the feeling of the wood floors of their home under her feet. But, here she was in her parents’ home, feet in green socks with white cats all over them. Intense homesickness unexpectedly gripped Andy. She turned away from Miranda.

Andy took a deep breath and released it slowly. Her mind whirled in dizzying circles. She forced it to slow down and latched onto a single thing. “I thought the girls were staying for another week,” the lift of her voice at the end made it a question.

When Andy turned back to Miranda, she found blue eyes staring at her intently. Not measuring, exactly, just looking. Appreciating, maybe. A flush crawled up the back of Andy’s neck. How could she have forgotten how flattering Miranda’s singular regard was?

And those eyes…so blue they seemed to glow. Memories flickered in quick succession across Andy’s mind, each of blue, blue eyes burning into her. But the moment that her mind stopped on, got stuck on, was the one where Miranda was kneeled in front of _another_ woman, her blue eyes boring into hers intensely over another woman’s naked thigh…

Every emotion of _that_ moment came back to Andy. She felt it all viscerally. Every cell in her body relived the anguish of that sliver of time. All the acrid taste of betrayal. All the devastation of heartbreak. All the shame of the arousal that swirled low in her abdomen. Because Miranda had been on her knees, her hand gripped tightly around a thigh, and her blue eyes blown black practically screaming _sex_ across the space between them.

“…if they want to.”

Andy missed most of what Miranda had said. She turned away again and pinched the bridge of her nose. “What?” Her voice was too sharp, too pointed.

“Caroline and Cassidy,” Miranda repeated slowly, voice low and placating, “have several things to do before their senior year starts.” Miranda’s sudden proximity made Andy turn in surprise. “But, if they want, they’re allowed to stay until the beginning of the school year.”

Andy nodded but still didn’t understand. Her breathing was too fast. Miranda was too close. The room was too small.

“Andrea, are you alright?” The question was a soft puff of words on Andy’s face. Miranda’s hand on her shoulder broke her out of her stupor.

“Don’t touch me.” Andy flinched out of the touch.

Miranda’s features creased in displeasure but quickly smoothed out to impassivity. She nodded, sharp and short, her eyes hidden. She took a step back.

“The girls,” Andy ignored everything they weren’t saying, “didn’t say they had prior responsibilities.”

“Yes, well,” Miranda sniffed, not looking at Andy, “it seems they wanted to get us together in the same room.”

After a moment of uncomfortable silence, Miranda sighed. Andy could feel the sharpness of her displeasure but didn’t know how to do anything but prickle in response.

“Bobbseys,” Miranda didn’t raise her voice but it carried across the room.

Caroline and Cassidy appeared with sheepish smiles. “Hi, Mom.” They waved in their perfect synchronicity.

“I’ll give you guys a moment,” Andy said, already halfway across the room.

 Her parents stood at the edge of the dining room, faces drawn and guilty.

“What the hell?” Andy looked at her dad; she couldn’t look at her mom. “You knew about this, didn’t you?”

“We thought it might be a good idea for you both to talk,” Margaret said, stepping closer.

Andy raised a hand to stop her mother. “You don’t get to make that decision for me,” her voice was low, angry. “You’re not even a very good decision maker for yourself.” The words felt jagged and raw as they left her mouth. Too much. She shouldn’t have said them. She didn’t look at her mother.

Her father’s eyes widened and his jaw set angrily, in defense of his wife. “Andrea,” his tone full of warning.

Andy cringed. That inflection of her name was all wrong. It was time to leave before she lost everyone she loved.

Raised voices pulled the three of them from their unspoken argument to the living room.

“Hey, hey,” Andy placated, her hands reached for each girl. “What’s going on?” They allowed the touch, calming slightly, before they moved together away from both Andy and Miranda.

“Nothing,” Caroline’s voice had a hard edge, modulated but cutting, “just our world going up in flames. Again.” She crossed her arms and stared hard at her mother.

“Young lady,” Miranda seemed in no mood to indulge whatever her daughters were doing.

“What, Mom?” Now Caroline’s voice was loud, her eyes angry, the tilt of her head defiant. “Andy’s not coming back if you don’t talk to each other.” Desperate eyes turned to Andy. They were so young and so lost. “Just be adults…just fucking talk to each other.”

Miranda’s whole demeanor hardened and she seemed to grow larger in the room even though she didn’t move beyond the narrowing of her eyes. Caroline unconsciously took a step back.

Andy’s head pounded and her heart ached. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Not like this. Not so messy and so angry and so full of unretractable words.

“That isn’t your decision to make,” Miranda’s voice was loud in the quiet of the room.

Stubbornness and defiance made Caroline regain her footing. She pointed angrily at herself and then Cassidy. “Why don’t we get a say in what happens to our family?” Her voice was high and shaky. Tears pooled at the edges of her eyes. “What about us?”

Miranda deflated, her heart crumbling in the face of her daughters’ pain.

“Sweethearts,” Miranda’s voice trembled, “of course what you think matters. What you want matters.”

“No, it doesn’t,” Cassidy voice joined the conversation. She wasn’t shouting, her words were soft and clipped, so much worse than shouting. Anger was better than defeat. Defeat from a child’s mouth sounded like hopelessness. “If it did, you’d be better, Mom.” Miranda blanched and Andy almost reached out to try and lessen the blow Cassidy landed squarely on Miranda’s chest. But, she didn’t know how to lessen Miranda’s pain anymore. “And Andy…Andy you’d care enough to stay.” Caroline clasped Cassidy’s hand. “We’re tired of people coming in and out of our lives. We need someone who knows how to stay.”

The words twisted a knife in Andy’s heart. Her eyes stung and her throat was tight. She tried to swallows down the urge to cry.

Tense silence filled the room. It was suffocating.

“Come home with us. Or don’t,” Cassidy’s voice cracked. “But, decide. It’s torture to be in limbo.” When Andy looked up into blue eyes so like Miranda’s, her broken heart cracked even further. Tears were running down Cassidy’s cheeks and her eyes plead with her. _Please come home_.

“Come on, Cas.” Caroline tugged on Cassidy’s hand.

The rain pelting against the windows and the boom of thunder were the only things that disturbed the absolute silence that descended on them when the twins left the room.

Andy pressed the heel of her hands harshly against her eyes. The tears leaked out around them anyway.

“What a long, shitty day,” her voice waivered on every word. She scrubbed her palms over her face. She wouldn’t let herself fall apart. “Where are you going?” Her words stopped Miranda halfway to the door. “You’ve never ran from a damn thing in your life.” Andy watched her with red rimmed, angry eyes. “Except me.” There was a bite to each word. “We’re still married. I think we can figure out how to sleep in the same room without much difficulty.” Andy looked at Miranda to see how deeply her words were managing to dig. “You might even get a little more action than sleep.” Andy clicked her tongue. “But only if you don’t run away like a coward.”

Miranda’s eyes flashed with fury, and hurt. She hated to be mocked. “Fuck you.”

“That’s where Caroline got that language from.” Andy tsked. “And it’s not me you’ve been fucking,” she continued without inflection, almost casually. It wasn’t entirely true. Andy knew that; she believed Miranda. But it was where it hurt Miranda the most. So it was where she pressed the hardest. “You and Mom could start a club: Wives Who Fuck Other People.”

Miranda’s jaw clenched tightly and a vein pulsed violently across her temple. Margaret gripped the edge of the couch hard enough the leather squeaked under her fingers, but she said nothing.

“That’s enough, Andy,” Richard’s voice bounced off the walls of the room. He pulled her into the kitchen. He gripped her shoulders firmly.

Andy knew she was reacting badly. But her chest was cracked open and she didn’t know how to keep all the pain and resentment from pouring out. She looked up into her father’s blue eyes expecting anger and disappointment. The empathy, the _understanding_ , shredded through Andy’s anger. She felt the sob start deep in her belly before it escaped her mouth in silent agony.

He wrapped his arms around her, and she clung to him. “That’s enough, sweetheart.”

* * *

Andy closed the door quietly behind her. The muted light from the lamp on the nightstand cast the room in soft shadow.

“You stayed.” Andy’s chest tightened when her eyes landed on Miranda.

“It seemed inadvisable to leave,” Miranda replied, her voice soft, all the anger seeped out of it. Her eyes watched every step as Andy approached. Andy sat next to Miranda at the foot of the bed. They sat there thigh to thigh, touching for the first time in almost three month. “Or as Dr. Weaver would say: ‘A really bad fucking idea.’”

The name was immediately familiar to Andy; she had been the one to give her the name years ago when Miranda suffered from nightmares. Andy had so many conflicting emotions about so much between them, but in that moment, hearing Miranda speak as openly as she knew how about seeing a psychiatrist, all Andy felt was pride. She was so proud of Miranda for going to seek help. For trying.

Andy even ignored the insistent sadness of _why_ she waited until after Andy left to start trying. That didn’t matter anymore. What mattered was that Miranda was taking care of herself. And, that was good, regardless of the reason that drove her there.

Nigel had mentioned Miranda had been taking time off. That had been a shock in and of itself. That Miranda had also been trying to mend bridges, had left Andy speechless. By the warmth in his voice during those conversations, Andy knew that she had definitely mended some things with Nigel. And, despite her anger at Miranda, Andy felt warmth spread through her at the fact that Miranda wasn’t isolating herself from the people that loved her anymore. It was good…it was good…it didn’t matter if that warmth turned cold at the edges and twisted painfully when she remembered Miranda hadn’t reached for _her_.

“I shouldn’t have—”

“It’s okay,” Miranda interrupted gently. “From what I gather, today had been a trying day, even before my appearance further complicated the situation.”

“A surprise, but…” _despite everything I’m happy to see you_ Andy wanted to say but didn’t. This space was new and strange, it was and wasn’t them. They hadn’t spoken openly about much of anything in a lot longer than three months. Instead of speaking the words aloud, Andy placed her hand just above Miranda’s knee and squeezed lightly.

Miranda looked down at the hand. “I’ve missed you,” she whispered, her eyes not quite meeting Andy’s.

Andy moved her hand an inch higher. The hitched breath that escaped Miranda’s mouth was as thrilling as the admission of being missed. Andy wanted Miranda to keep making little surprised sounds. She wanted to forget how broken they all were. She wanted to forget all the pain and heartache.

She wanted to feel good and not think beyond the moment. And Miranda could make her feel good. Andy moved her hand up another inch and felt a shudder go through Miranda.

“Is this follow through to what you said earlier?” Miranda mouthed against Andy’s cheek, half-serious in her question.

“Maybe.” Andy turned her face to her fully their lips brushing and then not, and back and forth. Open and ready to turn the almost kisses to actual ones.  With the hand not holding Miranda’s thigh, Andy tranced her fingers up Miranda’s arm. She stopped her fingers to tease at the baby hairs on the back of Miranda’s neck. Her lips curved up and her smile kept bumping onto Miranda’s parted lips. The soft breaths against her lips kept coming faster. She licked her lips, too close to Miranda’s face not to lick her lips too, and _yes_ that was definitely a moan caught in the back of Miranda’s throat. Heat settled low in Andy’s belly, sharp and sweet and wet.

Miranda’s hands gripped where they landed on Andy, one hand firmly squeezing her waist and other her forearm. She trembled in Andy’s arms but didn’t make any moves to press them closer. She just held on.

Andy finally moved her hand up to cradle the back of Miranda’s head, her fingers carding through the thick, white hair. She held them both there, suspended a few millimeter away from each other, before she pulled and that distance disappeared.

The low moan that escaped between them was Andy’s. Their lips pressed and pressed and pressed until Andy felt the pressure of them on every nerve ending on her body. She felt alive and wanted. She pulled them closer, the fingers in Miranda’s hair tightening.

She straddled Miranda, pressing them back into the mattress. She kissed the surprise off Miranda’s face. Her hips grinding into her abdomen seeking any sort of friction.

“Fuck me.” Andy’s lips kissed across Miranda’s jaw to where her bone stopped and sucked on the spot below her ear just hard enough to cause Miranda to shiver.

Andy pulled back and sat up, straddling Miranda again. She didn’t look down into Miranda’s eyes. She couldn’t. She didn’t want to see what she might find in them. Her eyes instead followed her hands as they tugged Miranda’s shirt out of her pants.

“No,” Miranda stopped her hands, “no, we shouldn’t.” Her breathing was short and quick, she was trying to regain her composure. “Not when you’re still so angry and so hurt,” she paused and her blue eyes searched Andy, “and so sad.”

The words washed over Andy like ice water. She wanted to be angry that Miranda was leaving her wanting, that she was rejecting her. But, mostly she felt embarrassed she had started this. Mostly, she was grateful she wouldn’t have one more regret in the morning.

She climbed off Miranda and sat on the edge of the bed, her back to the other woman. “Please don’t touch me,” she said when Miranda’s hand landed on her shoulder, “it’s too much or not enough…I don’t know. But, it makes something in my chest break…and I think it’s my heart.” The touch disappeared. “I feel too much or nothing at all.” She sighed, she had nothing else left. “I’m just tired. So, so tired.”

Miranda didn’t respond. She didn’t follow her as she stood up and walked out of the room.

* * *

“Andy,” Richard called softly.

“Five more minutes, Dad,” Andy mumbled, automatically turning away from the sound of his voice and pulling the blanket over her head.

He smiled. He wished they could all go back to a simpler time when five extra minutes would be all it took to make the day start better. He sat next to Andy, pushing her against the back of the couch. She huffed under the blanket. “Can I entice you with donuts and coffee?”

Andy pushed her head out of the blanket and opened bleary eyes at Richard. Her eyes made a slow sweep of the room. “You lie,” she accused, grumpy he was such a morning person, “I don’t see any coffee or donuts.” She started to slip the blanket back over her head. “The sun isn’t even all the way up yet. Go away, Richard.”

Andy smiled under the blanket at the laugh that pulled from her father. His hand squeezed her shoulder gently. “Come on, beautiful girl, we have to talk.” His words were as gentle as his touch, but they still made an anxious flutter erupt in her chest.

“Dad, it’s too early for serious conversation,” her voice was muffled and petulant from under the blanket. She wanted to block out reality for a little while longer.

“We’ve always had our best talks in the morning.” Richard stood and tugged at the blanket.

“Only because I’m too tired to give coherent responses,” she grumbled but sat up, “and you basically talk the whole time.”

He dropped a kiss to her forehead. Affection welled up inside Andy’s chest.

“Come on, I’ll take you to that little Polish donut shop.” He folded her blanket and put it away as Andy got herself ready.

Rain hit the metal of the car in a symphony of soothing sound. The storm was passing. The rain falling now a soft, gentle misting more than actual rain. The thunderstorm had passed sometime in the night. Andy could see the sun peeking through the clouds. It wouldn’t be long until the rain stopped completely.

The little donut shop was full of customers even so early in the morning. But even had there been a place to sit, they wouldn’t have stayed there. Richard drove them up to the place he used to take Andy to watch the stars. It had always been _their_ place.

He stopped the truck under a large rock outcropping that shielded them from the rain. He unlatched the tailgate, and they sat and ate in companionable silence.

“This coffee is terrible,” Andy smiled into the cup, “definitely not good enough to have gotten out of bed for.”

“We can’t all be up to New York standards,” his words were muffled behind his bite of donut. He stuffed the rest in his mouth before finishing off his coffee. “Though I think maybe your rich lifestyle has ruined your sensibilities.” He winked and smiled at her.

“Dad, this coffee has always been awful. You’re the one who always complains about it,” she bumped his shoulder before finishing her donut.

“But the donut is the best you’ve ever had,” he said with certainty.

“Yeah,” she indulged him anyway.

Richard watched her, his eyes warm and full of love. “Sometimes the best things come coupled with the worst things.”

“Richard Sachs,” she laughed, “you did not drag me out of bed at the crack of dawn, in the rain, simply to make that analogy.”

Richard laughed with her. They sat there chuckling until they both sobered. “No,” he looked up into the rainy day, “it just seemed like the perfect segue into what we’re really out here to talk about.”

Andy sighed and looked at the horizon. She wasn’t sure she was ready for any more conversation. Everything felt too raw, too exposed.

“The world doesn’t end,” Richard shrugged, “it feels like it should. It feels empty, sucked of warmth, too big and too small at the same time. But, it doesn’t end.”

Neither of them looked at each other. His words sounded as raw as Andy felt.

“It just ends for you. And you never, ever forget the pain of that moment.” He sighed heavily.

“Dad…” Andy understood.

He shakes his head. “Your mother told you what she did to help you understand that betrayal like that isn’t anyone’s fault but the one doing the betraying.” Richard warm hand covered Andy’s. “But she’s wrong.”

Andy shook her head. She didn’t understand.

“The choice she made was a mistake, yes,” he said, pained even all these years later, “but all the choices up to then, we both made.”

Andy looked over at her father. “What do you mean?”

“You don’t make decisions in a vacuum when you’re in a relationship, sweetheart,” he said, “especially not in a marriage. What one of you does always affects the other.” His eyes moved back to the sky. “We stopped talking, stopped communicating, stopped being intimate.”

Andy shook her head, a sad smile on her face. “You both sound so much alike. How did you forgive her? How did you move on from that?”

“It wasn’t easy, until it was.” He smiled at Andy, his blue eyes sincere. “I left, you know, like you have.”

Andy didn’t know, of course. They had never told her, and she would’ve never guessed they’d had such a terrible break. Even _knowing_ now, she almost didn’t believe it. Her father loved her mother; and she knew, had seen it every day of her life, that her mother loved her father.

“I left _with_ you.” His eyes looked faraway, lost in memory. “And with my heart broken, renting a horrible little room, taking care of my daughter while trying to maintain us afloat financially, I realized something. I had forgotten Margaret.” His face scrunched and his eyes misted over. “In all the time after you were born, in all the time after she got a job, in all the moments we were together but I wasn’t present with her. Somehow, this person that I loved with all my heart had become an object to me and not a person.” He wiped his eyes. “And I kept shelving her for things I thought were more important.”

Andy felt her stomach tighten in uncomfortable knots. “That doesn’t mean she should’ve cheated on you, Dad.”

“Perhaps not,” he agreed easily, “but the question remains: would she have done so if I’d been present with her?” He shook his head. “I don’t think she would have. Our succeeding thirty years of marriage are good evidence to the contrary.”

“It doesn’t change what she did,” Andy’s voice was pointed, still angry at the knowledge.

“It doesn’t.” He nodded, eyes sad. “I never said it wasn’t complicated. Only that putting things in perspective allowed me to see I was at fault, too. It made me realize I had only two real choices. I could leave and cut all ties with her, barring you, of course. I would’ve never kept you from knowing your mother. Or I could forgive her, go back, start over, and never lord that mistake over her.”

Richard moved closer to Andy and wrapped an arm around her shoulder. “I agonized over it. And when I finally reached the conclusion that I still loved Margaret, even though she had hurt me so deeply, I made a promise to myself to never throw that betrayal in her face. I would let it go completely or I wouldn’t go back. Our lives would’ve been too miserable otherwise.”

“Have you kept that promise to yourself?”

“Yes,” he squeezed her shoulder. “It’s only your mom that ever brings it up. I think she carries that guilt with her, even though she doesn’t have to.”

“She should,” Andy said without thinking.

Richard kissed her forehead and held her to his chest. “No, sweetheart, she shouldn’t. It was a mistake. One she would erase if she could.” Andy’s heart ached at the words. “Don’t be so hard on her. And don’t forget she’s your mother.”

Shame burned through Andy, the words from the previous day played loudly in her mind. “I shouldn’t have said those things to her.”

“No, you shouldn’t have,” Richard’s voice was gentle. “Remember that she opened up a part of herself to your judgment and scrutiny knowing she didn’t have to, knowing it might change your relationship, all to help you.”

“It’s a lot,” Andy confessed into his chest, knowing he understood she meant more than just her mother.

“I know, baby,” he said slowly.

Silence stretched between them and Andy felt safe cradled to his chest, hearing his strong, steady heartbeat.

“You know what else you never forget?” He asked, his voice more a rumble than words. “You never forget the good times. You always remember the dizzying feeling of falling in love the first time, and the second time, and the third time when you didn’t know it was possible to fall even more in love. You always remember the shared accomplishments. The mundane moments made sublime simply because you’re doing them together, with each other.”

She smiled against his chest. He reminded her in that moment so much of when she was growing up and he was teaching her the stars with poems and words as much as with science.

“Like I already said,” amusement colored his tone, “good donuts sometimes come coupled with bad coffee.”

Andy snorted out a laugh. “Really, Dad.”

He pulled her back and took her face in his hands. “Life is a mix of good and bad, Andy,” he smiled but his voice was serious again. “The good doesn’t always take the sting out of the bad, but the bad certainly doesn’t diminish the good. It’s a balancing act. Find your balance.”

She kissed his cheek. “When did you get so smart?”

His eyes twinkled. “I think just this morning.”

They stared up at the sun. It had come out when they were looking the other way.

“Whatever choice you make,” Richard said, his face still inclined to the sun, “your life has to keep going. You’ve been here for almost three months. It’s time to go back out into the real world, sweetheart. With or without Miranda. You can’t stop your life here.”

“Yeah, I know,” she replied. She had been thinking about that, too.

“And, you should talk to Miranda. I think it might help with all the things your struggling to come to grips with.”

“I will.” A promise.

Richard’s warm hand covered hers, helping her to her feet. He closed the tailgate. “I will always, always be here for you. In whatever capacity you need me to be.”

Andy nodded. Love swelled in her chest.

For the first time in a long, long time, she thought, perhaps everything would be alright.

* * *

_I release you._

Andy found the note and Miranda’s wedding ring on her nightstand.

She read and reread the three words in Miranda’s scrawl. Her chest felt caved in and hollow.

She thought and thought. Searched herself for the answer. For the balance her father talked about. But, she was off kilter and unmoored. The rings in her pocket felt too heavy.

“It’s been a long week, hasn’t it?” Margaret asked placing a glass of lemonade on the table in front of Andy’s chair. It was hot, but the breeze was cool and carried the scent of fall.

Andy hadn’t heard her mother open the door to the porch, but she’d been expecting her for some time. “Eternal,” her voice was tired but amused.

Margaret turned to go back inside.

“Hey, Mom,” Andy called her, “come sit with me for a bit.”

Her mother sat, back rigid against the chair.

Andy sighed. “I’m sorry I’ve been such a bratty bitch.” Margaret startled at the words, turning to stare at Andy. “The man whose opinion matters on the subject forgave you ages ago. He also reminded me that you’re my mother who is due respect. And mostly, that you love me.” She tilted her head toward her mother. “I think he’s right.”

Margaret shook her head. But relaxed into the chair.

“I am sorry, Mom,” Andy reached out across the table and took her mother’s hand, “I’ve said a lot of things I shouldn’t have said. It’s certainly not my place to judge you. Especially not for something that both you and dad have moved on from.”

“It’s okay,” Margaret’s smile was tremulous but full.

“It’s not, but it won’t happen again,” Andy promised.

They sat in the first comfortable silence since last Saturday afternoon. Andy drank her lemonade and Margaret watched Richard cut the grass. It was comforting how easily things could fall back into place if they were allowed to.

“What, um,” Andy fiddled with the glass, eyes staring at her dad, “what made you go back to him?”

Margaret considered the questions carefully. “Several things,” she began slowly, “I still loved him. There was you and my desire to have us be a family. But, mostly, I think it was that he came back to me. I don’t think I could’ve ever chased him. Not when I had hurt him so badly. In my mind, if he didn’t come back to me, he certainly wouldn’t want me to go looking for him.”

The simplest answer had been right in front of Andy, but it wasn’t until Margaret said it out loud that it presented itself to her so plainly. Miranda was waiting for her to come home. She had come to her parents’ only at the prompting of her daughters that insisted Andy had invited her.

Miranda wasn’t going to chase Andy; but she would wait for her in plain sight, exactly where Andy had left her.

“Of course,” she almost laughed at how absurdly complex she had been making things.

“You’ve made a decision,” Margaret stated more than asked.

“Yeah,” Andy nodded, “I have.” She looked at her mom. “You guys give me hope, you know,” she gestured toward her dad, “that given enough effort, a break, even a deep one like ours, can be mended and strong, even at the broken place.”

* * *

Andy inserted the key in the lock and turned. It gave easily and she closed the door behind her once inside the townhouse. The security code hadn’t changed. She half expected the locks and access codes to all be different.

But nothing had changed in three months. Everything in the house was the same. Everything _felt_ the same. If Andy closed her eyes, she could imagine she had just come home from work, just come back from grocery shopping, or just come in from her usual jog.

Tears stung her eyes and she wasn’t entirely sure why. Except maybe the overwhelming fact that the Priestly household had baited its breath for three months waiting for her to come home.

And that’s what Andy felt: _at home_.

Her fingers traced over everything she passed on her way upstairs. She was acclimating herself to the space. Remembering.

She stopped to peek into Caroline’s and Cassidy’s rooms. They were sprawled out on their beds fast asleep. Andy smiled. She would come back and speak to each of them when they woke up.

Anxiety gripped her when she stopped in front of Miranda’s bedroom door. _Their_ bedroom door, she corrected herself. It fluttered like lead butterflies in her stomach and made her feel sick. She sucked in a breath through her nose and released it slowly through her mouth. She repeated that twice more.

With shaking hands, Andy turned the doorknob. The door opened quietly and smoothly. She stepped into the room, her heart in her throat. The familiar scent, the familiar placement of furniture, the familiar feel of the room calmed her. She closed the door quietly behind her.

The bed was empty.  Andy’s eyes slowly moved through the room. And there, curled in her gray bathrobe, seated in the settee facing the windows, was Miranda, her eyes focused on the sunrise coming into view.

And Andy was suddenly transported to a different room, in a different country, in a different time. There would be no talk of divorce this time around. Andy’s heart beat harshly in her chest, but not out of anger or fear, simply because of the possibility of happiness.

She knew Miranda heard her approach but she didn’t turn from the window.

“Bobbsey, is everything alright?” Her voice wafted to Andy’s ears.

Andy let her hand fall on Miranda’s shoulder and traced down it until she clasped her hand and knelt down in front on her. “The girls are asleep. I suspect they’ll sleep for a few more hours still,” she said softly, looking up into stunned blue eyes. They were dry but red-rimmed. Andy idly wondered how many nights Miranda had cried herself to sleep.

“Andrea,” she shook her head.

“Hello Miranda.” Andy smiled at the press of a hand to her face. She turned into it and kissed Miranda’s palm.

“You’re here,” Miranda’s voice cracked, “you came home.”

Andy nodded. She swallowed. “I came back to you.”

The embrace was unexpected, but Andy stood to balance their tilting equilibrium. She held on to Miranda as tightly as Miranda was holding on to her. Andy could feel the uneven breaths on her neck and the hot pinpricks on liquid falling on her skin. She squeezed Miranda tighter.

Miranda pulled back. Andy wiped the tears from her face. Gently, reverently. She could count on one hand the number of times she’d seen Miranda cry. “I didn’t think you’d come back.”

“You’ve got a great advocate in my father.” She kissed Miranda’s forehead.

“Remind me to send him a nice car,” she said her eyes closed and face tilted toward Andy.

Andy smiled widely. “Maybe just a really good coffeemaker. Good donuts sometimes deserve good coffee.”

Miranda looked at Andy askance, not sure what was acceptable to say to that.

“Just an analogy he made,” Andy waved it away, smile still firmly in place, “He doesn’t need a car. Just a thank you next time we go see them maybe.”

“Next time, certainly,” Miranda’s voice was soft and her eyes were warm and full of hope.

Andy pulled out her rings from her pocket and placed them in Miranda’s palm. She closed Miranda’s fingers around the rings and had her retake her seat. Andy sat next to her.

Miranda looked at her closed hand uncertainly before looking over at Andy.

Andy pulled Miranda’s ring out of her pocket and held it in her hand before closing her fingers over it.

“I don’t want you to release me,” she said slowly, clearly. Her brown eyes soft and unguarded. She let Miranda look and look and look until she was satisfied. Her blue gaze softened further. And Andy wondered how she ever doubted this woman loved her.

“We do need to talk,” she continued. “I need to explain some things. And, I want you to explain what you meant the night before I left.” She swallowed, feeling her heart flutter in her chest. “I want us to go see Dr. Weaver together, at least once a week, until we don’t need to anymore. And I want us to be honest with each other. Always.”

Miranda nodded. “I can do that.”

“Is there anything you want?” Andy asked trying to not just ask and ask and not reciprocate.

“Stay,” Miranda said without hesitation. “Just stay with me. Please.”

“I intend to,” Andy immediately and automatically answered the need in Miranda’s voice. She reached out to place a hand on Miranda’s knee, in reassurance and connection.

They sat staring at each other, unsure where to start. Or who should start. All the things Andy had wanted to say left her mind and she was surprised she got as much out as she already had.

Andy took a deep breath. “I’ve missed you.” Miranda’s smile was small but pleased. “I didn’t say that to you last week. But, I’ve missed you for a long time. Longer than the three months I've been gone.”

Miranda nodded slightly, she didn’t interrupt, she knew Andy was going somewhere.

“You remember that event at MoMA last fall?” Andy looked down and away, the memory still bothered her.

“Yes,” Miranda said slowly, her eyes carefully tracking Andy’s discomfort, “it was the first time you didn’t let me touch you. The first time you didn’t sleep in our bed. It was a pattern that repeated itself with growing frequency afterward.” Miranda couldn’t help the almost accusatory tone. It had bothered her far more than she let on.

“Yeah, I remember that, too.” Andy’s brown gaze caught Miranda’s. The pain in Andy’s eyes gave Miranda pause.

“It was close to the end of the night, you’d gone to a private room with some of the board members,” Andy licked her lips, a nervous tic that she thought she’d grown out of, “I didn’t realize it was private as in ‘no one but those already in there allowed’ private.” Andy looked away from Miranda. “I was tired and ready to go home and I thought I’d just slip in and tell you I’d be waiting in the car for you.”

Miranda closed her eyes and waited.

“I overheard a conversation that was not meant for my ears, or any of those men’s wives ears,” Andy felt her face heat up in anger and indignation all over again. “I remember I thought to myself if Miranda were standing in that group of men they would be terrified to speak those words.” Andy laughed at her own naivety. It was a harsh and mirthless sound. She clutched the ring in her hand so tightly it pressed painfully against her skin. “Because she would never allow words like that to be uttered about other women.”

Miranda breathed out harshly through her nose. She didn’t interrupt. She had no defense here.

“I was about to charge in there and give those men a piece of my mind and collect my wife and go home.” Andy pulled her hand from Miranda’s knee. “Do you know what stopped me?”

Miranda shook her head. She wasn’t sure she wanted to hear it, she was certain she already knew the answer.

“My wife’s voice,” Andy looked at Miranda then, eyes so sad they made Miranda’s insides hurt, “agreeing with these men. She even went so far as to add a few choice words of her own regarding her wife.”

Miranda paled and she felt sick. Andy was never supposed to hear that exchange.

“Do you remember what you said, Miranda?” Andy’s voice broke over the words and she wiped angrily at her eyes.

“No,” Miranda shook her head. She didn’t meet Andy’s eyes. She couldn’t. But so much of their interactions during the time before Andy left became clear. And she _understood_. And she hated the knowledge because it was painful and it was _her_ fault.

“Honesty, Miranda,” Andy’s voice was watery, “that’s one of the only things I’m asking of you. Please be honest with me.”

“No,” Miranda still couldn’t meet Andy’s gaze, “I can’t repeat it.”

“But you remember?”

Shame flushed her cheeks. Miranda’s lips pinched in displeasure. She gave a short nod.

“Something to the effect of me being a particularly expensive but adept sex toy, if I recall correctly,” Andy’s voice was hard and brittle, the memory lancing her heart painfully, “though that might be a questionable recollection since intelligence isn't a of strong suit of mine.”

“Andrea,” Miranda’s voice was small, “I am so sorry. None of that was anything I meant. It killed me to say those words. But, I needed those men’s backing. They’re horrible, lecherous human beings that only do business with people just like them. I had to—”

“You could’ve said nothing,” Andy interrupted sharply.

Miranda hung her head.

Andy stood and paced. “I told myself the same thing. I tried to look at the situation logically. But, it always came back to the way I felt standing on the other side of that curtain and hearing the woman I loved saying such horrible things about me.” Andy swallowed the tears harshly, she had cried enough over this already. “I couldn’t let you touch me that night…I felt sick every time you came close. I couldn’t sleep in the same bed, in the same room.” She retakes her seat next to Miranda, carefully not touching her. “I thought it would just pass, I knew intellectually that you were playing a part. But the resentment and pain just grew and grew until I started building walls and pulling away from you. Because it hurt to be near you.”

Miranda very carefully closed the distance between them and placed a hand on Andy’s thigh. Andy almost shrugged it off but allowed Miranda’s touch. She wouldn’t stay if they couldn’t start over. And they couldn’t start over, start fresh, if she didn’t try.

Miranda laid her head on Andy’s shoulder and trembled against her. “If I could go back and swallow those words and slap all those men, I would. I would ruin every good thing that came from that moment, if it could erase the pain it caused you. I’m so sorry, Andrea.”

They sat there for minutes, hours maybe, breathing harsh, stuttered breaths filled with the tears their eyes had cried a thousand times over. They clung to each other.

“I forgive you,” Andy said, voice roughened with the strain of all the bottled up emotion. She turned and wrapped her arms around her wife. “I forgive you, Miranda.” And the tears did come then. Hot and quick. But her heart hurt less, like it wasn’t stopped up too full of feeling.

They rocked each other, the rising sun witness to their new effort.

“I tried to get us to see Dr. Weaver,” Miranda whispered roughly against Andy’s shoulder, “but I think I didn’t ask the right way.” She sighed. “And then I did another foolish thing in trying to get a reaction out of you.”

Andy was too tired to interject; she simply listened as Miranda spoke.

“I hope you believe me when I say I didn’t sleep with that girl,” Miranda’s voice trembled. Andy nodded against her shoulder. “And I didn’t plan on doing such a stupid thing beforehand. I would hope I would’ve made a better decision with some time to think it through.” She rubbed unconscious circles on Andy’s back. “I was desperate at that point. I don’t think we had had an actual conversation for weeks. And every time we were intimate felt wrong…like a tedious task that you wanted done as quickly as possible.”

“I’m sorry, Miranda,” Andy’s voice was raw.

Miranda shushed her. “In light of new information, I don’t think there’s anything to forgive.”

“No,” Andy insisted, “this new us. This new try. It has to go both ways. We own up to mistakes and forgive each other if we have to. But, we have to know when we’re wrong. I was wrong in pulling away so hard and not explaining why. So, I’m sorry.”

“Okay,” Miranda kissed her temple. “Though I forgave any imagined slights months ago. And I’m just happy to have you here with me now.”

Andy put her forehead against Miranda’s cheek.

“But the model incident…”

“Model incident?” Andy couldn’t help the small laugh that wording caused.

“Yes, well,” Miranda’s voice seemed less strained somehow, “that wasn’t planned. I heard you coming down the hall. Everyone had stepped out to a different set and that girl was changing clothes to follow them. It was an unfortunate coincidence of timing. The only thing remotely real was the kiss, and it was just a press of lips that she didn’t even acknowledge.”

Jealousy burned through Andy. She pulled Miranda closer to her, more tightly against her, as if claiming her in some rudimentary way. Miranda pressed a kiss to her temple. _I’m yours_ she mouthed against her skin.

“The other part was just the angle of your vantage point and our position. I didn’t get anywhere near her…parts.”

“You can say pussy, Miranda,” Andy said without thinking, “I’ve certainly heard you say worse.”

Miranda stiffened in her arms.

Andy pulled back. “I’m sorry.” She kissed Miranda’s cheek softly. “I won’t do that again.”

Miranda nodded. Believed her.

They rearranged themselves on the settee and sat pressed against each other, holding on to each other, as a new day greeted them outside.

“This last year has been pretty fucked up,” Andy said into the quiet that had settles around them. “But, I promise that I won’t let things that hurt me fester like I did. I promise to be honest and open. I promise to try. I promise to love you.” Her brown gaze looked longingly, lovingly at Miranda. “I ask the same of you,” she paused, “also no touching other women to get my attention,” Andy’s breath hitched on the words, much too soon to be joking about Miranda’s mistake.

Miranda’s eyes widened and then sobered. “No more touching other women to get your attention.” Deadpan. And, though it hurt, it made Andy shake her head and smile. “I promise,” she whispered fiercely, a solemn assurance, “and I promise to be honest and open with you, too. To try. To love you. Always.”

Andy opened the palm that held Miranda’s ring. She slipped her wedding ring back on her finger.

Miranda reciprocated and slipped Andy’s rings back on her finger.

Miranda brought Andy’s hands to her mouth and pressed soft kisses to each. “This has always meant forever to me.”

Andy’s _me too_ was swallowed by the kiss she pressed to Miranda’s lips. It was hard and soft, deep and light, demanding and giving…it was _everything_. It was the sealing of a promise and the renewing of a commitment made years ago.

Andy’s world—that had been tilted off its axis for almost a year and darkened and washed out of color and happiness—righted itself.  And she could see the future spreading out in front of her, in front of _them_ , year upon year upon year. With every day, with every choice, they would make it so. Together and whole.

* * *

“Have enough courage to trust love one more time and always one more time.” -Maya Angelou


End file.
